


The Things I'll Show to You

by Wife_of_Bath



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: At least from Irving's POV, Devious seduction, Hickey is not a witch no matter what Irving thinks, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Religious Guilt, Singing with friends, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 15:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20932277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wife_of_Bath/pseuds/Wife_of_Bath
Summary: A chance encounter with Hickey leads to a disturbing night for Irving.





	The Things I'll Show to You

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime between "The Ladder" and "Punished as a Boy"

The men are singing. The sound of their rousing voices would probably not satisfy the choirmaster of St. Giles, but what the men lack in tone, they make up in enthusiasm. Irving lingers at the edge of the seamen’s mess to listen. No one notices him in the dim light, which suits Irving just fine. He does not want to make his presence known lest he interrupt their fun only for the formality of a salute. It has been too long since he has seen smiles on so many faces. The cheer of the men’s songs, hopeful and full of camaraderie delights him. It is good to hear something joyful in these dark, still days as melancholy slowly seeps into the ship with the freezing cold. He leans against the wall, trying to keep in the shadows. He dares not sing or hum along, but he does allow himself the luxury of tapping his foot to the beat.

The shanty ends with loud cheers and laughter. Smiling, Irving moves to leave. A hush falls over the men. Irving pauses, curious at the sudden quiet. The strains of the fiddle begin again, softer, more wistful than before. A sole voice rises up, and Irving turns to see Hickey sitting on the table, the men’s attention fixed on him as he sings. His voice is neither the most beautiful nor the most refined that Irving has heard, but it is gentle and soothing in a way that Irving would never have expected from so wily and devious a man. Hickey’s song is not a ribald tune filled with innuendo like those Irving knows the men enjoy, but the words are so suggestive and laden with longing that something warm stirs deep inside him at the images they evoke. He closes his eyes, but instead of the willing, welcoming lass of the ballad, Irving sees only Hickey, his hands outstretched, his lips parted in greeting.

He glances at the other men. Some watch Hickey, their hands lightly tapping the table as they keep rhythm. Others stare at nothing in particular as they dream of the wives and sweethearts left behind. He spots Gibson nearby, half-hidden in the darkness of the cramped space, his arms crossed over his chest like he wants to fold in on himself. Gibson hovers at the edge of the group, distant, but there is no mistaking the regretful longing in his eyes as he watches Hickey. Irving feels a rush of indignation, both at the realization that his steward lied and at his willingness to believe the story. Whatever lay between the two had been mutual, and his stomach twists painfully at the thought of Hickey sending secret tokens of affection to Gibson through song.

But if Hickey has noticed Gibson’s stare, he will not acknowledge it. Irving follows the path of Gibson’s gaze and finds himself transfixed. The dim light of the lanterns catches in Hickey’s red hair. His large eyes are luminous, reminding Irving of papist paintings of saints lost in rapturous devotion. A slow smile spreads across his lips as he sings, and suddenly it is not a saint Irving sees but a siren, a witch, like those in the stories Lewis told him to keep him awake and terrified during those dark nights when thunderstorms rattled the windows of their house on Princes Street. Those bright eyes shift, and with a start Irving realizes that Hickey is looking directly at him, has somehow spotted him lurking like a child sneaking into places he should not be. Irving’s heart leaps in his chest, but he cannot tear himself away from Hickey as he sings promises of love and pleasure not to the men, not to Gibson, but to him.

The song ends. The spell breaks. Irving retreats as fast as he is able, still unseen by the others. Alone in the safety of his cabin, his alarm strikes him as ridiculous. Hickey is neither siren nor witch. He is nothing but a man. Irving feels foolish for entertaining such superstitious nonsense, however briefly. Still the image of Hickey, his beguiling eyes, his shining red hair framing his face, occupies his thoughts, even while he tries to busy his mind by burying himself in a book. Perhaps it is best if he does not paint tonight.

He reads far later than he should, until the words blend together in a blur and cease to possess meaning. Eyes heavy and slightly itchy, he says his prayers and dims the light so his cabin is swathed in peaceful darkness.

A noise outside stirs Irving from his dreamless sleep. For a moment, his drowsy mind identifies the sound as the creaking ice or perhaps a group of men trudging nearby, too tired or careless to be mindful of their loud steps. The noise persists. It is neither the light, respectful rapping of Gibson or Jopson, nor the polite but insistent knock of his fellow lieutenants, but a rhythmic beat that draws Irving further and further out of oblivion’s embrace.

Slowly, Irving sits up. There is no other sound on the ship. The men are silent, and the ice is strangely still. Only that constant tap-tap-tap against the door of his cabin. He opens his mouth to call to the man who has interrupted his rest when that voice, low and soft, drifts through the oak. Irving freezes. He should shout. He should march to the door, pull it open, and berate Hickey for his lack of discipline, have him punished for this disturbance.

He remains in his bunk. Irving waits, listening, hoping that someone will notice Hickey and stop him, but no one comes. Hickey continues to sing, his lilting voice slowly drawing Irving out. The warmth he had felt in the mess returns, stronger, and Irving’s pulse quickens as he stares at his cabin door. He imagines Hickey on the other side, pressed hard against it as his palms repeatedly slap the wood. Irving wants, _he wants_ to see him, to pull him inside and lay him down. To have Hickey’s clever hands, his feather-light fingers, travel over his face, his neck, arms, chest, his thighs.

The force of his desire shocks him. Never has he felt so great a need that could not be diverted with activities for the body and mind. His objections seem petty and small, and wither as quickly as Irving can think of them. Hickey has come willingly. The night is cold. Irving is very lonely. God will forgive him; He will forgive. Unbidden, his feet carry him to the door. Hickey’s knocks echo the rapid beat of Irving’s heart as he draws near. Leaning close, he can hear Hickey’s deep breaths, and his body thrums. He longs to hear more, the sound of Hickey’s breath hitching, soft laughs and gasps as he and Irving open themselves to each other and take their pleasure. He wants to hear silence, for Hickey to be so overcome that his tongue is locked and no sound escapes his lips.

His fingers tremble. It would only be the work of a moment to slide the door open and peel off Hickey’s slops until he stands pale and thin and naked, his wiry arms outstretched as he moves close to give Irving what he promised. And Irving would let him, would set aside all cares and concerns, and give himself over to be consumed.

The door slides open.

Irving awakes, alone in the darkness, his bedclothes sticky and covered in sweat. He shivers and prays.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a random thought I had a few weeks ago that Irving and Sgt. Neil Howie of the Wicker Man could probably have a long conversation. Related to that, the title of this fic comes from "Willow's Song". It's a complete anachronism since they were written for the movie, but I kept thinking of some sort of combination of ["Gently Johnny"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rC9EMZgKFjQ) and ["Willow's Song"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0i81TZZpxB8) as the song Hickey was singing.


End file.
